


Tied

by IllBeRightBack



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: I WILL FILL THE ENTIRE POGO TAG IF I HAVE TO YOU ASSHOLES, M/M, RARE-FUCKING-PAIR, The rarest of pairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:05:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllBeRightBack/pseuds/IllBeRightBack
Summary: Pogo lands him and Gidget in a police holding cell one night.





	Tied

**Author's Note:**

> ye this is short and me babbling bc i wanted some cute pogo and brad content so enjoy, im so drunk rn

Brad stared at Pogo from across the holding cell, unimpressed. The keyboardist was bouncing from foot to foot, not a care in the world.

Pogo turned his attention to the other man sitting in the corner.

“Why the long face?” Pogo giggled a little.

Brad just raised an eyebrow and remained silent.

“I’m sorryyyyyyy” Pogo whined, walking over to Brad and sat beside him, leaning his head on his shoulder.

“For what?” Brad said, ignoring him, “Punching that guy in the face, or handcuffing yourself to me, thinking the cops wouldn’t arrest you because you were attached to me?”

“....Which one do you want me to be sorry for?” Pogo asked, apparently very interested in the chain on Brad’s jacket.

“For fuck’s sake,” he sighed quietly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

“Ok, right, stupid question, I’m sorry for both,” Pogo kissed his cheek.

“Why the fuck did you even have handcuffs in your pocket?” He asked.

Pogo shrugged, “Ya never know,” he answered simply.

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?” Brad almost yelled.

Pogo just giggled and nuzzled his face into his neck, “c’mon you’re not mad at me.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty mad at you” Brad exhaled.

“C’monnnnn, I keep you on your toes! I give you some adventure in your dull, boring life!”

“You’re a saint,” he replied sarcastically.

“I know,” Pogo replied, examining his chipped, black nail polish.

Silence fell upon the tiny holding cell for a few moments before the older of the pair spoke up.

“Soooo whatcha wanna do?”

“You’re bored to death, aren’t you?’’ Brad asked.

Pogo pouted and nodded yes.

“Your own damn fault” Brad said, closing his eyes again.

It was going to be a long night of trying to entertain his restless boyfriend in a 12-by-20 room.


End file.
